


Winter's Maw

by SelenaEstella



Category: Bleach
Genre: Banter, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Comedy, Horror Elements, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sickfic, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, Ichigo's sick, and all he wants to do to take his mind off it is fight his favourite sort-of enemy. But something else is stalking Karakura, freezing everything it touches…That's right, it's a hypothermia fic!
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 45
Kudos: 286





	1. Sheer Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from _Over the Rainbow_ to try my hand at something festive. or, well, something seasonal.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Karakura, every human, Shinigami, Quincy, and Visored was hurrying around to get ready. Presents were wrapped, food was cooked, and fried chicken was consumed by the bucket.

But the Kurosaki house was abnormally quiet. Isshin, Karin, and Yuzu were having a meal out, following their usual Christmas Eve tradition. Ichigo, however, hadn’t joined them.

Ichigo lay in his bed, no company apart from his phone and a maniac stuffed animal. Despite Yuzu’s suggestion that they order takeout and build some sort of pulley system to get it into his room, Ichigo refused to be the one to ruin their holiday fun. He would suffer, alone, in (almost) silence.

Apparently, not even Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy, or Fullbring powers could save him from the common cold.

"Ok," he croaked, tossing another wad of tissues onto the pile around his wastepaper basket, "either a lot of people are talking about me, or I really am sick."

The closet door slid open a crack before being rammed shut again. A flimsy paper sign swung on a string, displaying a crude approximation of Ichigo's face with a large red X scribbled through it.

"Took you long enough!" Kon yelled from inside. "Now stop breathing in my direction!"

Ichigo huffed a sigh, flopped onto his back, then quickly sat up again as the air was cut from his nose. "You're made of nylon," he complained. "You can't even get sick."

"You don't know that!" Kon yelped. "I could have a severely compromised immune system and die instantly on contact. Besides, you're snotting everywhere and it's _gross."_

Ichigo sniffed wetly. "Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am-!" A coughing fit interrupted. Ichigo grabbed more tissues and curled over, rubbing his chest as he rode out the spasms. Yeesh, that one had actually _hurt._

"No one's _making_ you stay here, asshole," he muttered, punching his pillow into a better shape. Sitting propped against the wall was killing his back, but it was the only way he could rest and still breathe. This _sucked._ And at this rate, Christmas would suck too. No virus was allowed within twenty feet of the clinic – what if he had to spend the whole day in his room? It was the first time in forever that they'd all had time off at once, no school or work or even Hollows to get in the way. Ichigo heaved a stuffy sigh. His first break in ages and he couldn't even enjoy it.

Ichigo tipped his head back, wall cold and unyielding against his skull, and hitched his blankets further up his chest. He sniffed once and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd try to sleep. He felt more bored than tired, but he still held onto the feeble hope that he might get better overnight.

But his eyes snapped open almost instantly. Ichigo pushed away from the wall, heart leaping to his throat and he threw his window open and leaned out into the frigid air, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the sunset horizon.

There… faint against the purple and grey, a garganta yawned in the sky.

Ichigo leapt out of bed. He grabbed his jacket, shoes, hat and gloves and stopped with a foot on the windowsill.

"Change of plan," he told Kon, slightly breathless. "I'm going out, tell Yuzu I'll be back before midnight."

The closet door flew open. "Hold up!" Kon shrieked, stuffed paws shielding his mouth. "Is the virus eating your brain or something?! You can't jump from the second floor just because your boyfriend showed up!"

Ichigo leaned out and felt around for the drainpipe. "Calm down, there's like three feet of snow out there."

"Th… that was not the part you were supposed to object to…"

Ichigo made a grabbing motion over his shoulder. "Just come over here if y–" 

_Thwack._

"Use your badge!” Kon spat. “No way am I spending even a second in your gross, disease-riddled body!"

The closet door snapped shut again. Ichigo rubbed the back of his head.

“Asshole.”

Being a grown man perfectly capable of making his own, sensible decisions, Ichigo scaled the drainpipe. Better not to go through the house in case he tracked germs everywhere, he reasoned. It definitely wasn't because he was bored.

A drift had formed by the house where it must have sloughed off the roof, and Ichigo sunk almost to his knees when he dropped the last few feet. The sky above was a dark, lumpy grey that promised more snow overnight, and as he started walking Ichigo was quickly covered in white.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it wasn't far to Urahara's place, and once he was there nothing would warm him up quicker than a few brutal rounds in the basement. Breath fogging the air, Ichigo shook his head, trying to dispel a stab of old shame. A part of him still felt that he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it. That the only time he should draw his swords was when someone’s life was on the line. He’d been brooding for weeks after Ywach’s death, hounded by Zangetsu to get out, to keep fighting, to relish in the thrill; whereas Ichigo had chosen to let himself rust.

Then Grimmjow had appeared and threatened to blow up the clinic.

Whether he was _allowed_ to enjoy it or not, Ichigo already felt better than he had in days, headache fading with each breath of cold air and each pump of his heart. He just wasn't supposed to stay in bed, not when he could fight his favourite enemy. Friend-enemy? Frenemy?

Whatever Grimmjow was, he was one of the few people Ichigo wasn't scared of hurting. They could go at it until they were bloody and bruised with cracked ribs and torn muscles, and still fling insults at each other while they soaked in the healing spring. It was fighting without the stakes. It was _fun._

Ichigo was running by the time the little candy store came into view. The snow was thinner in front where someone must've shoveled it, and a snowman brandishing a baseball bat stood to the side. Evidence of a snowball fight lay scattered on the road, the porch, and somehow, the roof. So pretty and quaint. You would never suspect that it was owned and run by madmen.

Panting slightly, Ichigo skidded to a halt on the frozen ground and steadied himself on the door. He went to open it, only to find the door pulled sharply from under his hand as it was opened from the inside.

Startled blue eyes stared back at him.

"Uh," said Ichigo, trying not to look as though he'd sprinted through town. "Hey!"

Grimmjow got over his surprise and snorted. "Outta my way,” he said, shouldering past with his hands deep in his pockets.

Ichigo was forced to sidestep, too surprised to push back. "Really? You… don’t want to fight?”

Grimmjow half turned to look at him, a flicker of something passing in his eyes, but hell if Ichigo knew what it was. Yikes, wasn't he freezing? Grimmjow was wearing nothing but his normal clothes and his jumpsuit-thing was zipped even lower than usual, exposing a good few inches of scarred chest.

"Get your head outta your ass,” Grimmjow scoffed. “I don't just come here to fight you."

"Well,” said Ichigo, _“I_ didn't come here to fight _you!"_

A smirk pulled at Grimmjow's mouth. "Didn't say you did."

Ichigo’s cheeks felt hot, but it was _definitely_ just from running. “At least tell me why you’re here, asshole.”

“None of your business.”

Grimmjow began to walk away. A vein ticked on Ichigo’s forehead.

_Whumph._

Grimmjow’s shoulders rocketed towards his ears. Ichigo snorted, taking a moment to appreciate his aim with a snowball.

Grimmjow turned all the way and took a step in. Ichigo refused to lean back, returning Grimmjow's stare with a cold look of his own, the challenge clear. Grimmjow's pupils were wide against the approaching night and his breath smelled faintly of spice.

Ichigo braced himself, heartbeat picking up, prepared to dodge the hit he _knew_ was coming…

But with what had to be an _enormous_ amount of self control, Grimmjow did nothing.

"You look like shit," he said abruptly, and stepped away. "Do yourself a favour an' stay home tonight."

"You can't tell me what to do," Ichigo shot back, no _idea_ how he’d managed to screw that one up. “Just wait until I’m out of my body, dammit!”

Grimmjow flipped him off over his shoulder, but otherwise didn't react, walking off into the heavy snowfall until his blurred silhouette disappeared around the corner. Ichigo watched him go, disappointed and more than a little confused. Unlike _some_ people, he wouldn't demand a fight from a guy unless they'd _really_ pissed him off, but he'd never thought Grimmjow of all people would turn down a chance to go at it full throttle – especially after having snow dumped down his collar like that. Last time Ichigo checked, Grimmjow still thought he had a chance of winning, so…

So…

Had he given up?

The thought knotted uncomfortably in Ichigo's stomach. He shook his head; 'giving up' wasn't in Grimmjow's dictionary. But then why…

A sneeze interrupted his speculating. Faced with a long, cold, lonely walk home, Ichigo took his chances and stepped into the shop.

_"Greetings!!”_

With a flash and a bang and a shower of confetti, Urahara vaulted over the counter bedecked in a rainbow of tinsel. "Welcome, one and all, to your one-stop Christmas shop!"

Then he paused, and blinked at Ichigo.

"Oh," he said, deflating. "It's you."

"The hell?!" Ichigo snapped, swiping glitter out of his hair. "You mean you've been greeting normal customers like that?!"

Urahara cocked his head. "You haven't?"

_"How are you still in business?!"_

"Anyway!" Urhara continued. "If all patrons who just entered would kindly close the door, they will find many delightful gifts right at their fingertips. Turkey taffy, Christmas cake chewing gum, and cranberry breath mints are just a few of the fabulously festive items were have on offer!"

"Uhh…"

Urhara leaned forward, smiling jovially behind his fan. "Please buy something," he said through gritted teeth. "You know this won't sell after tonight and Yoruichi will have my hide for slippers."

Ichigo did look around. And he did end up buying a few things, if just to stop Urahara from breathing down his neck. Besides, he justified to himself at the counter, his dad would probably get a kick out of a reindeer that shits chocolate, and Yuzu was one of those weirdos who liked licorice. Karin would have whichever of the novelty candies she deemed the least lethal, and Kon would watch enviously from a body that couldn’t eat at all. It was a win-win all round.

Shopping took about ten minutes. Then Ururu materialised, and manipulated Ichigo with her big doe eyes into listening to her Christmas carols, which wouldn't have been half bad without Jinta's atrocious plastic recorder. After that harrowing experience, it only took a gentle nudge from Urahara to get him into the back of the shop, where Tessai and Yoruichi were hanging out around an open bottle of mulled wine.

Three hours later, Ichigo stepped into the night feeling warm from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He was buzzed on alcohol, holiday cheer, and the two massive bags of fantastic bargains that he would in no way regret come Christmas morning. So what if he was sick? So what if Grimmjow had left? Bastard could freeze for all he cared.

Part way home, a sharp vibrating in his pocket had Ichigo fumbling with his bags, awkwardly transferring all fifty tons into his right hand.

"Hi, Karin, Karin, hi," he said, trying not to let the strain show in his voice; he thought his shoulder might dislocate. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way home. I was at Urahara's but I'm not drunk."

“Actually, I called to tell you that we’ll be out a while longer,” Karin said, with the air of someone resigned to their suffering. “Dad wants to bleach his beard again and Yuzu’s been hypnotized by sale signs. Do me a favour and stay normal.” She paused. “Well. Normal-ish.”

"Thanks," Ichigo said dryly. A streetlight had broken up ahead, just his luck. "Just so you know I, uh, bought a few things."

"That man," Karin sniffed, "is a con artist. But he has good taffy." There was a muffled crash from the background. Karin sighed.

"See you later," she said flatly, and hung up.

Ichigo kept walking, some of the buzz wearing off. It was freezing, snow falling faster than ever now that the sun had set. He coughed into the zip of his jacket and sped up, shaking his head at his stupidity as he passed beneath the broken streetlight. Way to turn a cold into pneumonia. All for a fight with a blue haired…

What?

Asshole? Arrancar? Rival? Friend?

…crush?

Ichigo would’ve blushed if he wasn’t so cold. The thought of liking _anyone_ felt foreign and strange, let alone a violent, sadistic… powerful, attractive… _guy_ like Grimmjow. Ichigo shook his head and laughed dryly. For so long, he hadn’t had time to develop feelings for _anyone_. Was this weird? Was he weird? Maybe the virus really was affecting his brain.

Another streetlight went out.

Ichigo stopped. A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn’t just from the cold. The temperature plummeted, snow on the ground hardening into ice as the water in his gloves began to freeze inside the wool. The hairs on the back of his neck shot up and Ichigo quickly turned around.

 _Something_ was moving beneath the first broken streetlight.

Ichigo squinted into the black, but the falling snow obscured his vision and the space on the ground seemed _warped,_ somehow – a strange mass of shadows that looked beyond the possibility of a normal sidewalk at night. Very slowly, as quietly as he could, Ichigo lowered his bags to the ground. Maybe it was the darkness, the cold, and his illness playing tricks, but Ichigo hadn’t felt such an overwhelming sense of _dread_ since he’d first faced Kenpachi.

And just as he decided that it was _definitely_ time to leave,

a voice began to echo from the darkness.

 _“I’m cold,”_ it whimpered, high and frightened like a child’s. _“Please… I’m cold… Someone… Help me…!”_

Maybe he would have approached, despite the neon danger signs. The voice struck like a dagger, wrought with pain, and even with every instinct _screaming_ that something was horribly, terribly wrong, Ichigo’s first thought was to comfort.

But a memory rose, unbidden; one of a swollen river and pouring rain and a little girl without an umbrella.

Ichigo scoffed under his breath. Like _hell_ was he falling for the same trick twice. He tried to move, to run, but discovered to his horror that he was trapped.

His shoes had frozen to the sidewalk.

Ichigo knelt, tugging desperately at his laces, but his hands were numb and clumsy and he couldn’t grip them right. He could only watch with mounting horror as the… the thing, the Hollow, it _had_ to be a Hollow…

Got up.

And then sort of… keep on getting up.

And up.

And up.

Unfolding itself, higher and higher, until its head reached beyond the broken streetlight and became cut out against the sky, a featureless shape of black that Ichigo had to crane his head back to see.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, teeth stinging from the cold. His lungs burned with every breath and he could feel his thoughts getting slower, but he willed himself to _think._

He couldn’t run, so he had to fight. But if he left his human body, outside in the snow when it was already half frozen, would it… 

would it _die?_

He tried desperately to remember what Rukia had told him, to remember the times when he had left it for more than a few minutes…

Not that it mattered.

He had left this badge at home.

And the _thing_ was creeping closer, air so impossibly cold that Ichigo fought for every breath, blood trickling from his nose only to freeze before it reached his lip while frost formed on his teeth. He was only still standing because his muscles had locked tight, refusing to budge and unable to move.

He was _fucked._

Ichigo clenched his jaw and prepared to stand his ground. He thought, darkly, that if his human body died, at least he’d have a chance in spirit form. The monster loomed, raising a long, skeletal finger as if to prod in curiosity, and Ichigo braced himself for pain.

It didn’t come.

A flash of blue struck first. The Hollow screamed, high and ghastly like nails on a chalkboard. Ichigo cringed, but relief crashed over him as the Hollow ducked down and scuttled away, flinging snow in its wake as it vanished between the houses.

Some of the cold began to fade. Wracked with violent shivers, Ichigo found he could breathe again. 

Grimmjow stood, white as the snow in his Resurreccion form. Hunched over, trembling from head to toe and cursing under his breath, he turned to face Ichigo with a bala forming in his hand.

Ichigo jerked backwards and almost fell over, arms raised to protect his head. “Whoa–!” The blast hit the ground at his feet and Ichigo was thrown onto his ass, bruised but free, steam rising where the cero had hit.

“The _fuck_ was that thing?!” he shouted, flailing in the snow.

Grimmjow stalked forward, seizing the back of Ichigo’s jacket and trying to drag him away, movements awkward and stiff. Grimmjow’s nose was bloody, and there were ugly patches of mottled black on his forearms that could only be from severe frostbite.

“S-s-some… _fffucked_ up Hollow,” he spat through chattering teeth, yanking Ichigo a few paces down the street. “Didn’t I tell y-you to ssstay outta my _ffucking_ way?”

Ichigo got his feet back under himself and struggled to stand, tiny fragments of ice pouring off his clothes. He wasn’t so much warm as _less cold,_ and the numbness in his feet had started to travel up his ankles. If he didn’t warm up soon that would be _bad._

“You should’ve told me, asshole,” he spat, shoving Grimmjow away and tearing off his gloves. “I could’ve helped!”

Grimmjow sneered at him. “Since when’s it _your_ business?”

“Since I was _born here,_ jackass – of course it’s my business!” Ichigo crouched down and reached blindly for his shopping bags, shifting through the items that had spilled all over the ground. “And for that matter why’s it _yours?!”_

“If you gotta know, fucker went to the damn Seireitei,” Grimmjow snarled. “You think Harribel wants a reason for them to come sniffing around? I came here to kill it. Got close too before _you_ showed up.”

“Oh, sure, _that’s_ why it’s taking you so long,” Ichigo said, voice dripping sarcasm as he dug around with numb hands.

“Shut up!” Grimmjow snapped, rubbing furiously at his arms. “That thing feeds off heat. Ceros don’t work. Had to get up close.”

“Why’s it here if it eats _heat?”_ Ichigo flung his arms wide and gestured to the snowy streets. “Does this look warm to you?!”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, as if it was meant to be obvious. “Because I _brought it here,_ dumbass. I’m tryin’ to starve it out.”

If looks could kill, Grimmjow would be dead six times over. “You brought it here,” Ichigo said coldly. “To my town. On _Christmas Eve–”_

“I didn’t know it was some _special occasion–!”_

“–and expected me not to _do something?”_ Ichigo took a deep breath. _“WHAT IF IT EATS SOMEONE?!”_ he bellowed. Somewhere across the street, a window slammed shut.

 _“Fuck off!”_ Grimmjow howled. “It won’t attack _anythin’_ less than Arrancar, and I can fight just fine on my own, in case you _hadn’t fuckin’ noticed!”_

Ichigo found what he was after and stood at last. “Well, you’re alive, so I’ll give you that,” he muttered. Grimmjow shot him a sour look.

“You know what I mean,” Ichigo said flippantly. Dead, alive, kind of meaningless at this point. “Here.”

Grimmjow blinked, staring at the miniature hot water bottle Ichigo was offering him.

“You gotta… ugh.” Thinking felt like wading through tar. “You pop the little metal bit inside and it gets warm. They’re pretty shit most of the time but I’m fucking _freezing._ And then…” he felt like he was missing a step, “you keep it close to your chest? I think?”

Grimmjow slowly took the hand warmer and felt around for the metal bit. The cover was blue knit with black cats on it and Grimmjow looked so much like a cat himself, with his ears and tail and cautious proddings of his paws. Ichigo slapped a hand over his mouth but it was useless.

As he broke into a fit of giggles, Ichigo realised that he might have hypothermia.

Grimmjow looked at him with wounded pride and finally popped the metal bit. His Resurreccion peeled off, reforming his Zanpakuto in a wave of blue, and Grimmjow quickly shoved the heat pack into some sort of inside pocket before zipping his jacket all the way up.

Ichigo managed to stop laughing, instead wondering how the fuck Grimmjow’s clothes worked. Hell, how did Ichigo’s clothes work? Where did his normal shihakusho go when he used bankai, and for that matter, where had his uniform come from in the first place if he’d never…

He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m too sick for this,” he muttered, pushing his hand warmer down his shirt and holding it against his sternum. “We gotta warm up.”

“Who’s _we?”_ Grimmjow snapped. “You go home, I’ve got that freak to kill.”

“Yeah, no,” Ichigo said stubbornly. “No offence, but you look like shit.”

“I think I can handle one Hollow,” Grimmjow scoffed. “Even if _you_ can’t.”

“The hell?!”

Grimmjow’s teeth bared in a cruel smile. “You heard me – you’d be a meat popsicle if I hadn’t shown up.” He lowered his head, mouth stretching into a savage grin. “Guess we’re finally even, huh? That finally satisfy ya? Will you stay outta my _fucking way?”_

Silence.

Ichigo stared, mind racing, but heartbeat oddly slow on his chest. It took a while for the words to sink in, and even longer to believe that he’d heard them.

Was _that_ why Grimmjow had kept coming to fight him? Not for the fun, the challenge, the thrill? He just wanted to pay off a _debt?!_

No… That couldn’t be it. What about their rivalry, about wanting to be stronger? What about Grimmjow’s desire to _beat him,_ to _prove_ that he was the king? That _had_ to be the reason, surely.

But maybe…

Ichigo thought back to their weird exchange before, and then further back, to the last few fights they’d had. Had something been different then, too, and Ichigo just hadn’t noticed? Had he been too wrapped up in the excitement to realize that Grimmjow was losing his fire? Maybe…

Maybe Grimmjow _had_ given up.

Ichigo didn’t know what to say to that.

Then a coughing fit had him ducking towards nearest house and spitting a glob of bloody saliva into the snow.

“You’re not lookin’ so hot yourself,” Grimmjow muttered. He edged closer, maybe about to say something else before shutting his mouth with the click of bone teeth.

Ichigo pushed himself upright but kept leaning on the wall, rubbing his chest. Each breath made a worrying crackling sound, and he sure as hell hoped that the blood was from his nose and not a lung hemorrhage of some kind. He warred with himself, torn between the urge to curl up somewhere warm and to do his job as a goddamn shinigami.

But Grimmjow was strong, and he must’ve taken on worse opponents than weird ice hollows. Rukia’s powers had hardly _touched_ him, and…

And he didn’t want Ichigo around anyway.

Besides. Ichigo was cold, and sick, and _human._ What use would he be in his human body?

He sighed heavily, and picked up his bags.

“Fine.”

“Ha,” said Grimmjow, “what?”

“Fine!” Ichigo shouldered his way passed and marched off down the street. “You want to do it yourself, fine by me!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go home and defrost my ass.”

No reply, but Ichigo refused to look back. Maybe one of his friends would’ve insisted on walking him home, but as he firmly reminded himself, Grimmjow wasn’t his fucking _friend._ God. He was an idiot. Had he really deluded himself into thinking that a former _Espada_ might actually _like_ _him?!_

The night seemed even darker, the air even colder, and without the arguing to keep him warm, the journey home was miserable. Ichigo’s heat pack had slipped out at some point and he was too stubborn, too tired, and too angry to backtrack, and by the time he reached his front door, he felt more sick than he’d been in his life. Fuck Grimmjow, fuck Urahara, and fuck him for thinking this was a decent _fucking_ idea.

At least it was warm in the house. Ichigo stretched out his shoulders, hands beginning to burn as the blood flowed back into them. The bags had left deep, red welts in his fingers that were sure to be painful as soon as feeling returned, damn all that heavy, overpriced crap. Should’ve just left the stupid things in the street.

It wasn’t until Ichigo curled up on the couch, box of tissues in one hand and a hot cocoa in the other, that his anger began to fade. His head felt clearer, even if it was hurting again, and Ichigo seriously started to question his decision to walk away. He sighed. Then blew his nose. He had never backed down like that before, and he didn’t exactly feel happy about it.

“But it’s not like the bastard wanted me to stay,” Ichigo mumbled into his drink. His reflection frowned back at him, disapproving.

_“So?”_

Ichigo jerked, cocoa sloshing over his wrist. He looked around wildly, only to realise that the voice had come from _inside_ his own head.

“Zangetsu?!”

 _“No shit,”_ his Zanpakuto replied. _“You gonna answer my question?”_

Ichigo licked cocoa off his wrist before drying it with a tissue. “What question?”

Zangetsu huffed impatiently. _“So what if he wanted you to leave? You’re just gonna do what he says? Is he the boss a you?”_

“I was literally freezing!” Ichigo said defensively. “I don’t wanna be a Shinigami full time yet, _thanks.”_

 _“Ok. I’ll give you points on the tactical retreat,”_ Zangetsu said grudgingly. _“But I’m retracting them immediately because you were dumb enough to leave your badge behind.”_

“Urahara usually lets me out,” Ichigo grumbled, but Zangetsu had a point.

 _“Listen.”_ Zangetsu did the inner-world equivalent of leaning forward in his chair. _"_ _Let me give you some insider advice, King: if you want that jerkass to like you, you’ve gotta be a bit more_ **_forceful.”_ **

“Well that just sounds wrong,” Ichigo said, eyebrows raised.

_“I mean it King! You’ve gotta show him how ya feel. Little hints ain’t gonna cut it or he’ll think you’re only toyin’ with him.”_

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if he likes me back.”

 _“You don’t know that,”_ said Zangetsu, a little too quickly.

“Wait.” Ichigo sat up straighter. “Do _you_ like him?”

 _“No,”_ Zagetsu drawled. _“What gave you that idea?”_

“You like _Pantera,”_ Ichigo realized.

Zangetsu said nothing, but his silence was pretty damning.

“Holy shit,” Ichigo said flatly. “I have no idea if that’s messed up or not.”

 _“Yer changin’ the subject!”_ Zangetsu snapped. _“Are you gonna get yer ass back out there or will I have ta do it myself?”_

“Yeesh, I’m thinking about it!”

_“Well hurry up!”_

Ichigo gulped down the last of his cocoa, and thought.

Some fights were for life, and some were for pride, and Grimmjow clearly wanted to have this one. But Ichigo had no excuse not to at least _monitor_ the exceedingly dangerous Hollow that was running around his city; even if Grimmjow could handle it, that didn’t make it _not_ Ichigo’s responsibility. Probably.

…Maybe he should let Rukia teach him some more. Even if her drawings were terrible.

But if he left his body, then he wouldn’t be sick…

…and he wouldn’t die from exposure either…

…then he really had no excuse. And hadn’t he been itching for a fight just hours ago?

 _“Get some!”_ Zangetsu cackled as Ichigo ran upstairs. _“And while yer at it, get me some too!”_

“Shut up,” said Ichigo, and Zangetsu listened for once.

Kon screamed when the door opened, launching himself back into the closet.

“Give a guy some warning, would you?!”

“I’m not staying,” said Ichigo, picking up his badge. He weighed it in his hand for a moment, before nodding to himself. He stripped off his jacket and got into bed, making sure he felt warm and comfortable on his side.

“Keep an eye on my body!” he ordered Kon. “I got really cold earlier.”

“Serves you right,” Kon grumbled. “What are you even _doing?”_

Ichigo ignored him. With a smack of his badge against his head, Ichigo shot to his feet in a swirl of black silk, energy coursing through his veins. He stood for a moment, in awe of how much _better_ he felt and amazed by the simple pleasure of breathing through both nostrils.

Then he was off, sprinting over Karakura’s rooftops.


	2. Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly drunk at a New Year's party rn hooe I don't regret posting this lololol
> 
> It is Big Feelings time my dude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buying myself some time by splitting this chapter in two I'D tbf I think this section works on its own

The night air was crisp, billowing in his sleeves as he leapt from roof to roof. People hurried through the streets below, swaddled in coats and scarves, but Ichigo felt light and free as the snow fell all around him.

He backtracked, returning the the street where he’d left Grimmjow. The Hollow could hide its spiritual pressure, that much he knew, and it looked like Grimmjow was trying his hand at stealth for a change – Ichigo couldn’t get a read on either of them. He opened his eyes and looked around; the lights were still out, but there was just enough spilling from the surrounding houses to see the Hollow’s tracks – and Grimmjow’s footprints close behind.

Ichigo ran, chasing his targets across backyards and driveways, weaving between snowmen. Here and there he found torn up lawns, damaged trees, and splatters of frozen blood. But the final fight had yet to come; whatever Grimmjow was planning, his arena was somewhere else, and Ichigo felt a touch of gratitude that he hadn’t picked Karakura’s suburbia to go all-out.

Eventually the houses ended, giving way to woodland not far from the cemetery, and the trail broke up. Ichigo stumbled into the trees, finding his way by patches of snow and deep pits in the earth. Eventually the canopy above gave way, and Ichigo found himself on an old dirt path between forgotten, crumbling graves, once again knee deep in snow.

_Thud._

His foot hit something and he tripped, hitting the ground face-first. Ichigo scrambled to his feet, brushing great flurries of snow off himself, and looked around to see whatever trashbag or spare tire or unwanted Christmas tree had decided to ruin his hunt. 

The only light came from the uneven sky; Ichigo knelt down and felt around, slightly unnerved by the feeling – he knew that it was cold, he could feel it, but it didn’t _hurt_ the way it had in his human body. At first glance there was nothing there at all, but Ichigo's toes were smarting; whatever it was had been _heavy._ Patting around with increasing frustration, Ichigo's breath caught in his throat as his hand splayed over a _face._

Someone else might consider a homeless man, or an elderly lady, or maybe a store mannequin laid out as some sick joke – the body sure felt cold enough. But from the second his hand met ice cold hierro, Ichigo knew who it was.

Ichigo hauled Grimmjow free, spitting curses under his breath. It was no wonder he’d tripped – Grimmjow was practically invisible, white armour blending almost seamlessly with the snow. If Ichigo had lost the trail… or if he hadn’t _bothered_ to come…

Ichigo swallowed, hard, and pressed his fingers to Grimmjow’s neck. Grimmjow's eyes were half closed and his lips were as blue as his hair. There were patches of frostbite all over his body, his arms and legs and the tip of his tail, but the worst was a circle of charcoal black, far too close to his heart.

But his Resurreccion hadn't given out and that had to count for something, right? His breathing was shallow but his pulse was steady, so it couldn't have been too long, right? It wasn’t too late, right?!

“Oh, sure, you’ll handle it,” Ichigo muttered harshly, pulling Grimmjow over his shoulders and glancing frantically around. How was he supposed to warm up a dead guy?! Would fire work – ordinary, human fire?

It was worth a shot. Ichigo ran back into the woodland, setting Grimmjow down at the base of a tree. Plenty of wood was scattered around and Ichigo did his best to build a pile, like he’d seen in movies, sticks pointing inwards like a conical tent.

Right. Now to light it.

Ichigo chewed on his lip. No lighter or convenient shards of flint. He could make a cero, no problem, and that would probably work. The question was whether he could make a cero that wouldn’t obliterate half of Karakura.

Oh for _fuck’s sake._

He hauled Grimmjow upright and cuddled him, trying to wrap him up in the warmest hug possible, _begging_ for some of his heat to transfer.

“Come on, stupid!” he snapped, slapping Grimmjow’s cheek. “Wake up! You’ve gotta wake up so you can light the fire!” He vigorously rubbed Grimmjow’s back, fingers getting tangled in waves of blue hair. Grimmjow’s armor felt like _ice._ Ichigo ripped off the top of his shihakusho, goosebumps rising on his skin as he wrapped around Grimmjow’s shoulders.

“Hey. _Hey!”_

A low groan answered him. Ichigo stopped slapping and seized Grimmjow’s hand instead, rubbing his thumb in circles into the leathery skin. Blue eyes rolled towards him, unfocused and dazed.

“A _bala,”_ Ichigo said, loudly and clearly. “Can you make a _bala, Grimmjow?”_

And Grimmjow had the audacity to _roll his eyes_ at him.

“No!” Ichigo shouted. “No, don’t you…” He stopped. Took a breath. Changed tactic. 

“Ok,” Ichigo said instead, aiming for disinterest, as if Grimmjow’s un-life wasn’t hanging in the balance. “Fine then. I _knew_ you couldn’t do it.”

Grimmjow’s eyes flew open. Power sparked in his hand. Ichigo shoved it at the pile of sticks just as the circle of red light formed, and the wood went up in a plume of flame.

Ichigo jerked back instinctively as the fire hissed and squealed, steam rising off it as well as thick grey smoke. Heat washed over him, real but distant somehow. He didn’t think it would hurt him if he touched it, but the point was that it was _warm;_ Ichigo shifted, rearranging himself so he could hold Grimmjow closer to the fire, cradling him across his folded legs.

Ok. He had heat. So now what? He just had to wait, right?

Ichigo shifted Zangetsu’s longer blade, holding it on the ground beside him. The firelight threw strange, dancing shadows among the trees, constantly shifting, making the stones and twigs grow gigantic shadows. None of it was real, but Ichigo now understood why normal humans were so afraid of the dark.

“You never come back.”

The voice was so soft he barely heard it. Ichigo jumped and looked down to find Grimmjow watching him with hazy eyes.

“What do you mean?” said Ichigo, bewildered. “I always come back.”

Grimmjow shook his head a fraction. “Not for me,” he whispered, eyes unblinking. “You never come back for me.”

And with a terrible sinking feeling Ichigo realised that no. He never had.

He had left Grimmjow bleeding after Nnoitra’s attack. He had left Grimmjow poisoned in the Soul King Palace. He had left Grimmjow just hours ago, injured and cold, and for all he’d been told to leave, Ichigo was becoming increasingly sure that he had made a mistake.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he said quietly, scanning the edge of the firelight. “I thought you hated me.”

“Not anymore,” Grimmjow sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo whispered, pulling Grimmjow closer. “I’m sorry. I promise, I won’t leave you behind.” Ichigo smiled weakly. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Grimmjow’s mouth twitched. Maybe he wanted to smile. But he said nothing, eyes beginning to close.

“Hey, hey!” Ichigo said loudly, hitching Grimmjow further up and starting to rub at his arm, trying not to panic. “Talk to me Grimmjow – what is that Hollow? Where’s it from?”

Grimmjow tried to push away, batting weakly at Ichigo’s chest. “‘M tired…”

“Oi, Oi, you giving up on me now? What happened to killing that thing?” Ichigo gave him a shake. “Come _on,_ Grimmjow, tell me about it.”

“Ugh… fine… ‘S a Quincy… Quincy prison,” Grimmjow managed, frowning as he struggled to think. “They were… were doin’ things there… Experiments like, fuckin’... Szayel, but worse.”

“Yikes,” said Ichigo, glancing around at the treetops, “that’s fucked up. What else?”

Grimmjow took a deep breath and seemed to wake up a little. “Made Hollows that were stronger, but… messed up. Crazy. Lotta them let go afterward… or escaped.”

Ichigo swallowed back his anger, feeling an old stab of hatred towards Ywach. “What’s its name?”

“Ugh… Den-somethin’.”

“Try harder,” Ichigo snapped. “You do know its name, right?”

Grimmjow cracked an eye open far enough to glare. “Dendrite Blitz.”

Ichigo nodded encouragingly. “How do we beat it?”

“‘S wounded… already… But Ceros don’t work. Gotta be claws.”

“Great,” said Ichigo, waving Zangetsu. “I don’t have those, will swords work?”

Grimmjow opened his other eye. “Not your kill.”

“Ugh, fine, _you_ can kill it,” Ichigo said, rolling his eyes. “But I get to help!”

Grimmjow scowled. It had none of his usual ferocity but it was _something._

“‘M not weak,” he said.

“I know that!” said Ichigo, thoroughly exasperated. “I don’t think you’re _weak,_ Grimmjow.”

“Yes you do,” Grimmjow accused. “‘S why you fuckin’ laughed at me.”

“What?” Ichigo ran through their conversation, then further back to their meeting before. “Oh for… That wasn’t because you were weak it’s because you looked like a cat! Grimmjow, you’re actually one of the strongest guys I know.”

Grimmjow’s frown only deepened. “Then why’re you sticking around… if it’s not because I owed you?”

Ichigo wished his arms were free, then he could gesture like he wanted to. 

“Lots of reasons!” he said. “It’s be… because I…” He hesitated. 

Grimmjow’s eyes reflected the firelight, dark pupils with a ring of bright blue, dazed from the cold but completely, unflinchingly focused on Ichigo’s face, mouth, words.

This wasn’t the time for lies.

“I _like_ you,” Ichigo confessed. “I like you a _lot._ At-at least,” heat flooded his cheeks, “at least I’m pretty sure I do? I’ve never liked _anyone_ before, except, I guess, there were a couple of people in highschool, and someone in fifth grade, b-but other than that…” 

Ichigo made himself stop. Take a breath. This wasn’t how he’d pictured his confession, but life rarely went his way.

“I like you,” he said simply. “I want to spend time with you. And stuff.”

For a long time, Grimmjow said nothing. Ichigo adjusted his grip on Zangetsu, wary of the darkness, but didn’t dare break Grimmjow’s gaze.

“You can’t,” Grimmjow whispered, tired and pained. “You… No one’s as kind as you. Not without wanting something.”

Ichigo’s heart seemed to twist.

 _"Fuck,_ Grimmjow,” he breathed. “I’m not that… I haven’t been… I’m not trying to _use_ you, I…”

Realisation crept over him, colder and more harrowing than any frost or ice. He had fought Grimmjow, hurt Grimmjow, insulted him at every turn, and Grimmjow thought that was him being _kind?_ Sure, it had never been malicious exactly, but… What kind of terrible, messed up…

 _Aizen,_ his head supplied, thought hitting like a punch. Who else had been powerful, cruel, and so outwardly benevolent, only to cut off Grimmjow’s arm? To kill his own allies? Of course that would give a guy trust issues.

Ichigo leaned a little closer, held Grimmjow a little tighter. He was looking better, not as pale, and his lips were slightly pink. He seemed more alert, eyes flicking between Ichigo’s as he searched for a lie, and he seemed more… open. Honest. Almost vulnerable.

And they were so, _so_ close. 

Ichigo knew what he wanted. The temptation was almost _painful._ But there was _no fucking way_ he could kiss someone without their permission, especially not when they were half frozen and delirious with cold. With an enormous amount of self control, Ichigo began to pull away.

Grimmjow’s hand tangled in his hair, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. It was cold and _sharp,_ one of Grimmjow’s knife-like teeth snagging on Ichigo’s lip, but it was _perfect._

Grimmjow pulled back first, tongue darting out to lick the bead of blood. He looked way too pleased with himself, but there was a soft warmth in his smile that Ichigo had never seen before. He made his insides feel sort of gooey.

Moments passed in silence, just the crackling fire and their own heartbeats. Ichigo felt like he’d downed a few more glasses of Yoruichi’s mulled wine, but _better._ Grimmjow, though…

Grimmjow’s happy expression was gradually being replaced by what could only be described as ‘dawning horror’.

“Kurosaki?” he began, as all emotions faded and were replaced by something carefully blank.

“Yeah?” Ichigo said slowly, feeling less like he was cradling his crush and more like he was holding a wild jaguar.

“This is real isn’t it.”

Ichigo winced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had a good holiday! See you soon with chapter three (fingers crossed)
> 
> And can someone pls give me their opinion on whether Dendrite Blitz is a suitably Kubo-esque name?


	3. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Blood and gore warnings for this chapter.** It is fighting time my dudes. 
> 
> I'm not posting drunk this time but I am a bit hungover haha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback everyone! I know every author says this but it really does help to get reviews. I've stuck with Dendrite Blitz as the name so if you didn't like it but didn't say anything, too late now!

The fire crackled and danced. Wind whispered in the leaves. Snow continued to fall, silent and ethereal, mapping trails on the ground beneath the spaces in the trees. For a long time, not a single word was spoken.

“Uh… so…” Ichigo said eventually, staring resolutely at a nearby pebble. “The Hollow, uh, Den… Dendrobi–?”

“Dendrite Blitz,” Grimmjow said curtly, from the opposite side of the fire.

“Yeah, that guy.” Ichigo cleared his throat. “So, are we gonna… I mean, only if you want–”

“Spit it out," Grimmjow snapped.

“Are we gonna fight it or what?”

Grimmjow was silent for a while. “Yeah,” he grunted eventually.

“Great!” Ichigo clapped his hands together. The sound made him jump. “S-so… got a battle strategy?”

“Find it and kill it,” Grimmjow said shortly.

“Awesome!” said Ichigo. He got up. “So, we like… just run around and try to find it? I can do that. I can totally do that. I don’t mind–”

“Get it somewhere cold,” Grimmjow cut in. “Weaken it. _Then_ kill it.”

“Huh…” Ichigo folded his arms and thought. The whole city was cold, it was _winter,_ but if he had to guess the coldest place…

“The river,” he said. Grimmjow’s ear twitched towards him. That was progress right? “There are parts without houses, without lights… The wind coming off it is _freezing.”_

Finally, Grimmjow looked at him. His face held no emotion, but he didn’t look furious, murderous, or mortified either. Ichigo considered that a win.

“Right,” said Grimmjow. He got stiffly to his feet, giving orders like a general. “We get it to the river. Once there we wear it down, usin’ attack and retreat. Then we make an opening and strike.” His mouth twitched briefly into an almost smile. “But _I_ get to finish it.”

Ichigo nodded, frowning. He didn’t want to argue, but something was niggling at his conscience.

“Do we _have_ to kill it?” he asked cautiously. “We can’t just… drive it back or something?”

“Do we have to…?!” Grimmjow’s eyes bugged. _"Y_ _es!_ What sorta–”

“It’s _Christmas–!”_

“–stupid fuckin’ question is that?!” Grimmjow gestured at his body and his many, many burn marks. _“Of course we have to kill it!”_

“Yeesh, don’t bite my head off,” Ichigo snapped. “I’m _kind,_ remember?”

Grimmjow couldn’t blush with hierro that thick, but he’d be red as a tomato if he could. Probably.

“You’re also dumb as a rock,” Grimmjow muttered. “Are we doing this?”

“Yes,” said Ichigo. “But uh…”

Grimmjow snarled. _“What?”_

It was Ichigo’s turn to gesture at his body. At his very cold, very naked chest.

“Can I have my–?”

“Oh _hell,_ fuckin’, yes–” Grimmjow ripped the kosode from his back and tossed it across the fire. “Take it!”

Ichigo took it. Grimmjow looked relieved.

They scattered the fire and set off, winter air soothing the red in Ichigo’s cheeks. He was happy to follow for once, letting Grimmjow do his tracking thing as they headed back into the city. They didn’t speak. Ichigo wanted to reason that Grimmjow needed to concentrate, but of course he knew it was because of how embarrassed he must feel. Ichigo was still cringing in sympathy.

At least he knew that Grimmjow liked him back?

They stopped abruptly, standing in the sky above the shopping district. Hundreds of voices rose, indistinct and tangled as Ichigo squinted down, trying to scan the streets; the lights were almost blinding compared to the forest. 

"Is it close?" he asked worriedly. "My family's down there if they aren't home already."

"In there,” Grimmjow said, jabbing a claw towards a boarded up shop. "Leaching whatever it can get while it heals. I’ll go down and force it out. _You_ go to the river.”

“So I’m bait,” Ichigo said dryly, relieved to talk strategy rather than feelings. “Got it.”

Grimmjow shot him a glare. “You _said_ you wanted to help.”

“I’m not complaining,” Ichigo said quickly. “How do I get its attention?”

“When it’s out I’ll give the signal,” Grimmjow explained, eyes fixed on the building. "That’s when you draw it towards you. Cero, bankai, whatever – somethin' big it can't resist. I’ll follow it. Then we fight.”

“Then we fight,” Ichigo repeated. “That’s it?”

“That’s it."

Ichigo nodded. “Sounds simple.”

“What, you expected a ten hour speech?”

“Yeesh, no I–” Ichigo stopped, and breathed in through his teeth. “We’ll talk later,” he said, turning towards the river. “I know you’re strong, but uh… be careful ok?”

Very briefly, they had something close to their moment in the forest. Grimmjow's guard dropped just slightly and he looked surprised rather than offended.

But after a second he just nodded and allowed gravity to take him, dropping to the street and the enemy below.

Ichigo ran towards the river, passing beautiful lamp-lit walkways until he reached the nasty part by the rundown bridge. A rusty chain link fence divided the riverbank from the cracked tarmac road, and beyond it stood empty warehouses, left over by the disused docks. Nothing around but trash. The council always promised to do something but of course it never did.

The wind that blew off the water was cold, even for a Shinigami. Ichigo stood on the narrow stretch of grimy sand and rubbed his arms, wishing he had another heat pack.

Grimmjow had kissed him. Yes, he'd thought he was dreaming… but they'd _kissed._ Ichigo poked the scab with his tongue, memory running in loops through his head. Was it normal to feel like this? Kind of floaty but also mildly terrified? He’d heard of cold sweats, shaking hands, and uneven heartbeats before. Less about a sense of impending doom. But maybe that was because they were about to fight an ice monster. He wondered how Grimmjow was getting on.

Far off in the distance, something screamed.

A cero split the sky, blast punching through the clouds and scattering in waves of electric blue. Ichigo jumped, distracted for a second by how cool it looked, before grabbing his swords and unleashing a pulse of reiatsu. Water lashed behind him. Sand scattered on the ground. In the distance he sensed Grimmjow swerve, honing in with breakneck speed.

The temperature dropped. Ichigo scanned the surrounding buildings, breath misting in the air.

Grimmjow appeared with a spray of sand and a wide, maniacal grin. "It's coming…!"

_Silence._

Ichigo shifted his stance, eyes moving rapidly over the darkness. His own breath sounded deafening. A prickle ran down his spine and with a cold, primal certainty Ichigo _knew_ he was being watched.

Something scuttled. The sharp tap-tap-tapping of claws over concrete. It echoed off the surrounding buildings, making Ichigo's skin crawl. _Somewhere_ in the shadows, the Hollow was creeping nearer.

"Where is it?" Ichigo hissed. Frost was spreading across the sand like bone fingers, searching, reaching.

"Wait." Grimmjow's hand dug into his bicep. His eyes were fixed on a point near the ground, right in the center of the darkness. Ichigo tried to follow his gaze but couldn't see anything, just more shadows.

 _"Why?"_ The frost was even closer, creeping beneath his feet and onto his toes, unnaturally cold. Claws pricked into his skin and Ichigo realised he was straining against Grimmjow's hold, filled with the instinct to either _fight_ or _run._

"Watch," Grimmjow said.

Cold crept over their knees. Ichigo shifted his grip on Zangetsu, metal stinging his hands, and felt Grimmjow start to shiver through the grip on his arm.

There was a faint squeak as metal strained. The fence broke with a painful _twang,_ links hitting the ground as slowly,

so slowly,

Dendrite Blitz used its gigantic claws to peel open a hole.

"Almost," Grimmjow breathed. Pits opened up in the ground and Ichigo finally thought he could see something, like a blurry shadow moving forward. How long until it reached them? Three seconds? Two?

_Boom._

The Hollow screamed as the ground _exploded,_ spraying dirt all over it. Grimmjow laughed, loud and rough and _seething_ with hatred while the Hollow struggled and writhed.

"How d'you like _that_ you cheating bastard?!" he cackled.

"You planted bombs?" Ichigo guessed. 

Grimmjow nodded, smile all teeth. _"Now_ you can see it," he sneered.

Dendrite Blitz growled, like a box of nails being rattled. It stared for a moment, bulbous head swinging from side to side as it crouched, great holes in its body from the blasts. But the wounds were healing quickly, more ice filling the gaps.

 _“Let’s go!”_ Ichigo shouted. He tore away from Grimmjow and lunged. His blades hit its legs. There was a sound like cracking glass and the Hollow screamed in fury, but cold spread up Zangetsu’s blades and Ichigo had to retreat, palms stinging so bad he almost dropped his swords. Grimmjow attacked from the side, slamming a kick into the Hollow’s body with the _crunch_ of breaking ice.

“The hell are you hitting its legs for?” he said scornfully.

“I’m weakening it!” Ichigo shot back, stabbing the Hollow’s neck before retreating further down the riverbank. “I thought that was the plan!”

The Hollow rose like a tiger, claws beating the air. Ichigo darted into Shunpo as it released a wave of jagged spikes. They hit the water and exploded into ice crystals, spreading across the surface, but one caught Ichigo’s leg and he tripped.

“The hell?” He smashed it with Zangetsu’s pummel and scrambled to his feet, hopping awkwardly on the foot that wasn’t numb. “Why’s it targeting me?!”

Grimmjow appeared just long enough to slash the Hollow’s flank. 

“‘Cause you’re a Shinigami!” he yelled, reappearing under the bridge.

Ichigo cut through another wave of ice spikes and they shattered, turning to mist in the air. “So it’s racist?”

“No, dumbass, it’s a Quincy weapon!”

“You didn’t think to tell me that?!”

_“I did tell you!”_

The Hollow changed tactics, pushing off the fence to scuttle across the sand. Ichigo dodged one swipe and blocked another, but felt pain in his thigh when a third claw struck from nowhere. Blood froze in crystals as Ichigo leapt away, splashing into the river.

Grimmjow reappeared, slashing lightning fast from above. The Hollow screamed again, and with the crunch and crack of shifting ice, more limbs grew to stab the air above it.

“I have an idea!” Ichigo called, glancing at the water around him. “Get out of the way!”

He ran out above the river, channeling power into his blades. He turned and struck; water rose in a tidal wave, rushing towards the shore. 

The Hollow was soaked, and the water froze on impact. Ichigo returned, smirking as the Hollow struggled under the weight, clawing at the ice.

Grimmjow landed next to him, looking sour. 

“Good job,” he said sarcastically. “You’ve made its armor even thicker.”

“Armour?”

Grimmjow rammed his fist into the ice. Cracks lanced from the impact with a deep, booming _crunch._ The Hollow's entire top half fell off in a shower of broken crystal.

For the briefest second, Ichigo glimpsed a shape, suspended in the center.

Then ice regrew in jagged blades, forcing him to dodge.

He landed next to Grimmjow, eyes wide. "There's someone inside that thing?!"

"You didn't figure it out?" Grimmjow mocked, kicking the Hollow and destroying another chunk. "Keep attacking, it's getting weaker!"

Ichigo scowled. He adjusted his grip and raised his swords, attacking with a shout. More ice broke, but it regrew almost as fast.

“We aren’t getting anywhere like this!” he snapped.

“Then _try harder,”_ Grimmjow snarled.

"Where are your bombs?!"

“Just hit it!”

“I _am_ hitting it, _you_ hit it!”

_“Shut up!”_

_“YOU SHUT UP!”_

Their blows struck as one, blades and claws spearing through the ice with cries of fury and a howl of pain. Dendrite Blitz shattered, shell falling off completely. No arms, no head, no _Hollow_ it seemed, but the _someone_ in the middle dropped limply to the sand.

Ichigo stared. Time seemed to slow. It was a girl, very small, and very frail, pale and sickly from the cold. Her lips were blue, her eyes were black, and she looked at Ichigo desperately from beneath a broken mask.

 _“Please…”_ she mouthed, voice little more than a puff of white breath.

And for a fraction of a second–

Ichigo hesitated.

_“Kurosaki!”_

Ice punched through his chest. Ichigo clawed at it, fingers raking through spikes of crystal as he tried to get a purchase on the stake in his heart. Cold spread through him like his own blood was freezing, and those big, black eyes bored into his with a wide, hungry smile.

Arms grabbed him and twisted. Ichigo screamed as the ice shattered, shard still lodged inside him as wind whistled in his ears. The landing jarred him so bad his vision blacked out, coming back in fragmented grey as he struggled desperately to breathe. In the back of his mind he could feel Zangetsu’s rage and Ichigo fought desperately, knowing for certain that if his Hollow took over he would kill innocents, kill _Grimmjow._ Even if the void in his chest would stop the ice from killing him, Ichigo refused to let his own stupidity lead to _that._

 _“The fuck were you thinking?!”_ Grimmjow roared. He was shaking. “Use your bankai! Your mask! Fucking _do something!”_

“C-can’t…” Ichigo wheezed. They were on the bridge, he realised, just barely illuminated by a cracked yellow light. The railing dig unto his back. He didn’t feel so cold now.

“You _can’t?!”_ Grimmjow repeated incredulously. “The hell does that mean?!”

Ichigo’s mouth was full of blood. He coughed and tried to swallow. “Too… dangerous,” he managed. “Can’t… Not here…“

He closed his eyes, head thudding back against the metal bars. How could he explain when he couldn't even breathe? He was powerful – too powerful. So powerful he could wipe out Karakura. He couldn’t use Bankai just to take on one stupid Hollow who got lucky, not here, not in the human world. Ichigo shook his head.

“Go. Go fight.” He shoved weakly at Grimmjow’s arm, fighting to open his eyes. “I can… can take this s-sort of damage.”

Grimmjow laughed, sharp and slightly hysterical. “I thought you guys needed your hearts!”

Ichigo managed a weak smile. “Go. I’ll… I’ll catch you up… ok?”

“You’d better,” Grimmjow spat. "Just don't-" his voice wavered slightly, "you'd better fucking not-"

"I won't." Ichigo found Grimmjow's hand. Tried to give it a squeeze. "I'll… come back. Promised, remember?"

For a second, Grimmjow's mask slipped. A hundred emotions passed behind his eyes, and he looked like he wanted to speak.

But they were out of time. An unnatural cold crept through the air as the one light flickered and died, Dendrite Blitz growing closer and closer with each scrape of ice on metal. Grimmjow nodded once and vanished.

Ichigo grit his teeth and grabbed the spike. At last he managed to dig his fingernails into the ice and slowly, achingly pull it from his body. He felt his Blut seal off the wound and staggered to his feet.

Ichigo flopped against the railing and looked down into the darkness, head spinning, vision blurred. Grimmjow was fighting in sweeps of white and blue, but snow swirled thicker than ever and Ichigo had no idea who was winning when he could barely even _see._ He needed to move. He needed to _think,_ but his brain felt frozen. If Ceros wouldn’t work, then Getsuga Tenshous were useless. Grimmjow was out of bombs. That left physical attacks. Attacks that Ichigo would struggle with. And how much more damage could he take? Maybe… two, three hits before he collapsed?

The thought of dying like that… helpless and paralyzed while his insides froze and a monster feasted, slowly draining his life… He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Ichigo dropped to the beach, more like a brick than a Shinigami. He stuck his long sword in the sand and leaned on it for a moment, eyes closed, pain coursing through him with each beat of his damaged heart. _Why_ did it have to be a kid? A little girl even?! Would he even be able to hurt it?

Did Grimmjow know that?

A grunt of pain shook him awake and Ichigo dragged himself upright. Grimmjow was backing towards the water, hunched over, clutching his right arm and the _fear_ that shot through Ichigo eclipsed the pain in his chest.

He was bait, so he'd be bait. Ichigo pulled his sword free and focused his power.

_"Getsuga Tenshou!"_

The attack slammed into Dendrite Blitz, slicing off its three front legs. The Hollow twisted, body splintering through the middle as it realigned and then rebuild itself, honing in on its meal.

Ichigo braced himself.

The Hollow lunged.

Just…

a little…

_closer…!_

Zangetsu sank into the ice, right where Ichigo could still see the small body underneath. The was a _crack._ A _crunch._ A gurgling scream.

The Hollow fought like a fish on a line, slashing wildly even as a gory red icicle dripped down Zangetsu’s blade. Pain shot through his body from a dozen frozen claws, but Ichigo clung on and _twisted,_ cracking the ice even further just as Grimmjow struck from above.

Ichigo must've blacked out. He came to a second later, surrounded by chunks of ice and frozen blood. He was trembling all over, but didn’t feel cold, a soothing numbness creeping up his limbs. He started to fall.

Hands grabbed hold of his shoulders. Ichigo’s head lolled, he was so _tired,_ but the blue light made him look up.

Grimmjow had caught him, back in his jumpsuit-thing normal form, and he seemed… But he couldn’t be _worried,_ because why would…

"Crazy bastard," Grimmjow snapped. "You always that ready to die?"

Ichigo tried to hit him, and sort of flopped his hand into Grimmjow's collarbone. "F'k off," he slurred. "Got it done didn' I?"

The world shifted. Ichigo found himself pulled into an awkward hug, and let his head drop onto Grimmjow's shoulder.

"Why'd you have to be like that, huh?" Grimmjow muttered, voice tight.

"I'll be fine." Ichigo could already feel his wounds begin to close. He shut his eyes for a moment, content to wait until his head stopped spinning and he could breathe a little easier. "You're pretty reckless too, y’know."

Grimmjow shrugged, knuckles gently running up and down the back of Ichigo's head. "Couldn't let you take my kill."

"Liar," Ichigo mumbled. "But thanks."

"What for, dumbass?"

Ichigo smiled into the curve of Grimmjow's neck. "For trying to protect me."

Grimmjow said nothing. Just held on a little tighter. Ichigo pulled back first, but not far, just enough to get his feet under himself and slowly, carefully stand. They were holding hands, Ichigo realised dimly. That was romantic right? Well, if you could call the death grip Grimmjow had on his wrist ‘holding hands’.

"You gonna be OK?" he asked.

Grimmjow stood as well, favouring his right side. He was splattered with blood, shivering, and had patches of frostbite all over him. His fingertips weren't supposed to be black in his unreleased form. Ichigo winced in sympathy.

"It'll heal," Grimmjow said dismissively. His poker face was back. "There are medics in Las Noches."

Ichigo stared for a second, words sinking in. "Wait–!"

He went to grab Grimmjow's arm, only to pull back as Grimmjow swore and twisted away.

"Sorry," Ichigo said numbly.

Grimmjow shook his head. "Got hit there," he said with a grimace. "What were you sayin'?"

"Ah, just… D'you want to come to my place?" Against all the odds, Ichigo's cheeks felt warm. "Just - my dad's a doctor. He'll be pissed that we're injured but he'll patch us up. Plus there's food. And hot water. And central heating. Don't know about you but I'm freezing."

Grimmjow stared for a moment, considering. Ichigo was prepared to accept a gruff refusal when Grimmjow slowly nodded his head.

"Why not?" His mouth twitched into a small, crooked smile. "It's Christmas."

"Yeah!" Ichigo laughed, slightly hysterical. He flung an arm around Grimmjow's shoulders and they leaned on each other, starting out on the long, slow trek back into town, battered and bruised.

"Merry _fucking_ Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~y'know when a thing isn't bad... and you don't _hate_ it... but you know that it _could_ be better?~~
> 
> ~~yeah. I might rewrite bits of this :0 but for now I want it posted. hope you enjoyed!~~
> 
> I changed my mind! Originally I was dissatisfied because it doesn't read much like a shounen fight to me - this isn't really a conversation. I was very hung up on the idea that it all needed to ~mean something~.But considering I had so little time to write it, I did good! I've just fixed some typos.


	4. Ember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have about one hour left of GST before Christmas is officially over. I can't believe this fic was only supposed to be two chapters! It was very fun to write and I'm glad I did it, but I probably should've started it earlier so that I could, y'know, actually post it on Christmas.

Christmas Day dawned bright and sunny. The storm had died with the sunrise, leaving the sky blue and crystal clear, and snow on the ground glittered like a million tiny diamonds. All through Karakura, every human, Shinigami, Quincy, and Visored was looking forward to a pleasant day filled with presents, food, and party games.

Things were no different in the Kurosaki household – except, however, for one room upstairs.

_“ACHOO!”_

A clump of snow fell off the roof. Ichigo watched it go, snuffling into a tissue before chucking it into the pile by his wastepaper basket. Apparently getting hypothermia as a human, then nearly freezing as a spirit, hadn’t helped him get better. Coupled with his frostbite and the still tender hole in his chest, the day was turning out to be the most miserable Christmas on record. Go figure.

But at least he wasn’t alone.

Grimmjow was sprawled beside him on the bed, wearing Ichigo’s spare pajamas. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was hoarding his own stash of tissue boxes and lozenges.

“For the record,” Grimmjow croaked, “I blame you for this.”

Not even being a _ghost_ could save him from the common cold.

They’d arrived home well after midnight, cold, wet, triumphant, and bleeding. Yuzu had been appalled. Karin had been impressed. Isshin had been tipsy, and wouldn’t _that_ look good on the patient feedback forms, but he’d patched them up anyway while muttering about 'the youth these days'. No one had expected Grimmjow to stay, but in the good name of Masaki Kurosaki, he’d been welcomed with open arms. Mostly. Kon had taken one look and fled the building.

Ichigo patted Grimmjow’s shoulder, mindful of the healing injuries. “Sure,” he said, equally hoarse. “It is _totally_ my fault that you turned into a Grimmjow popsicle. A… Popjow? A Grimmsicle?”

Grimmjow’s reply was to gesture with a bandaged middle finger.

Ichigo smiled wryly and closed his eyes, settling back into the mountain of pillows. He still had some questions – about Grimmjow, about Dendrite Blitz, about the Vandenreich experiments in general – but they could wait. Besides, his throat felt like it was full of rusty needles.

There was a tapping from the window, and a faint ‘yoo-hoo!’ sounded from below. Ichigo glanced over to find something swinging from the pulley system.

“Hope you enjoy!” Yuzu called, bundled up in the thick pink coat Ichigo had got her for Christmas. “I added some extra seasoning.”

“Thanks Yuzu,” Ichigo mouthed, grabbing the pair of thermos flasks and quickly retreating inside. Grimmjow had wrapped himself in one of the many, many blankets as soon as the window opened, and rose with all the poise and elegance of a slug.

“Wassat?” he asked, squinting suspiciously.

Ichigo handed him one of the flasks. “Soup.”

Turkey soup specifically. Instant turkey soup, to be even more specific. Ichigo gave it a sniff – not that he could smell much of anything. The box had been upside down among the rest of the novelty junk Urahara had sold him, and Ichigo half expected it to contain powdered fishbones, and maybe arsenic. But if anyone could improve stuff with seasoning, Yuzu could, and at least it was warm. Ichigo poured himself a cup and went back to lounging.

Grimmjow extracted his arms and did the same. They watched steam rise for a minute, side by side, used to the comfortable silence. They'd be spending the foreseeable future doing precisely fuck all, but at least they weren't picking fights. Yet.

“Are we a couple now?” Ichigo asked quietly.

Grimmjow pulled back from his cup, soup on the edge of his mouth. “Ask me when my head ain’t splittin’ in two,” he grunted.

“‘Kay.” Ichigo hesitantly sipped his soup, surprised to find that it actually tasted of turkey, and even more surprised that it didn’t taste of garbage. Maybe he’d send down an order for cranberry sauce if his stomach felt up to it later.

“Oh yeah.” Grimmjow leaned over and reached under the bed, soup sloshing in his cup until Ichigo grabbed his hand and steadied it. Grimmjow ignored him and felt around, pulling his jacket out by a sleeve. He picked it up and rifled through the pockets, tossing aside the cold heat pack before retrieving a small cardboard box.

“Happy Christmas.”

Ichigo blinked. “For me?”

“Who else?” Grimmjow shoved it onto Ichigo’s chest and finished off his soup. The box was off-white and dented, cardboard torn in places and wrinkled in others, tied with a fraying green ribbon.

“Where did you get this?” Ichigo asked, turning it around in his hands.

Grimmjow yawned, shoving his jacket back under the bed. “Urahara’s,” he said, lying down. “You gonna open it or what?”

Ichigo fiddled with the ribbon. “I don’t have anything for you.”

“Eh, get me somethin’ later.”

“You’re _supposed_ to say it doesn’t matter–”

“Just open it before I change my mind.”

Ichigo opened it. Inside was a phone charm – a strawberry, with a scowling anime face cut into it. Badly.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“D’you like it?” Grimmjow asked hopefully.

“I _hate_ it,” said Ichigo. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Grimmjow collapsed into rough, cackling laughter. _“It’s you!”_ he wheezed, thumping the mattress. "It looks _exactly_ like you!"

Ichigo closed the box and smacked it own on his bedside table, shaking his head with disgust. “Wow. So original. Not like a _thousand_ people haven’t made that joke before." Trust Urahara to stock something like that - bastard had probably made it specially. "And smartphones can’t even take charms!”

Grimmjow stopped laughing, but only because he started coughing. Ichigo smacked his back.

“Sit up dumbass,” he ordered, picking up Grimmjow's flask. “And drink more soup.”

 _“Ugh.”_ Grimmjow heaved himself upright, scrubbing a hand across his forehead. “This sucks. Can’t believe we gotta be up here the whole fuckin’ week.”

“No one’s making you stay here,” Ichigo pointed out, instantly regretting it and quickly looking at Grimmjow. “I mean–”

Grimmjow shrugged, not looking at him. “Yeah, well,” he muttered into his cup, “not like there’s anywhere better to be.”

Ichigo smiled.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I know this sucks, but… there’s always next year.”

Grimmjow looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Next year?”

“Mm.” Ichigo lay down, rearranging a few pillows. “If you want to.”

Grimmjow said nothing, but maybe he didn’t need to. He pulled the comforter up so that it covered Ichigo's shoulder and lay down second later, not cuddling or spooning or anything like that, but _close._ It was enough. It was _more_ than enough, when they were sick and injured and still figuring things out.

The future was 2020’s problem, but in the meantime… maybe the worst Christmas ever wouldn’t be so bad.

\- The End -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to everyone on the grimmichi discord. I know i haven't been around for a while but i hope you enjoyed this <3


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